Brew City Blues
by The Cleric
Summary: After a network deal gone horribly wrong, Sam and Freddie find themselves alone halfway across the country in a race against time to protect the very future of iCarly. And who knows, they might just find a bit more than friendship along the way. SEDDIE.
1. No Honor Among Thieves

**Chapter 1**

**Freddie**

"Here we are," announced Sam as we stepped out of the transit station. "The Windy City."

I frowned at her, pulling the fur lining of my jacket's collar closer around my neck. "That's Chicago," I corrected. "This is Milwaukee, where I'm pretty sure the nickname has something to do with beer."

She shot me a trademark _shut up_ look. "Whatever. It's windy, and I'm cold already. How far away is the hotel anyway?"

I looked down at my phone's GPS. "Really close actually, we can probably just walk it."

Her gaze went pointedly down toward the three travel bags she'd brought. "Dream on, Fredstina. Unless _you_ want to lug two of these babies all the way down to the Bilton."

I was shivering by now, and as cold as it was I had no interest in getting in an argument with Sam that I'd lose anyway. Which is how I ended up dragging my own luggage plus most of hers uphill toward the Bilton hotel. And her bags were_ heavy_, the kind of weight that clothes can't account for. Knowing Sam, I was almost scared to ask what she had packed.

"Move it Freddie!" Sam called as she flounced ahead of me with just one suitcase to hold. I gritted my teeth to keep from saying anything that would get me a black eye. She didn't seem to notice. "I'm freezing and we were supposed to meet Carly at the hotel like five minutes ago!"

"Maybe, you could show a little understanding since I'm the one carrying all _your_ luggage," I retorted.

"Yeah, or maybe not," she said dismissively. She clapped her gloved hands together. "Now c'mon, less talky more walky."

I wisely didn't respond, which made the rest of our trek at least somewhat bearable. When we finally got inside the hotel lobby, it was all I could do not to collapse on the carpeted floor.

"Reservations for Shay, Puckett, and Benson?" clipped the woman at the front desk.

"That's us," Sam said. "Minus Shay, she should be here soon."

"I see." The woman tapped a few keystrokes at her monitor before letting out a small gasp. "Oh dear."

I frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Well. . ." she wrung her hands apologetically. "It looks as if the Benson room is undergoing some. . .aggressive redecorating."

"What kind of aggressive redecorating?"

The woman looked very concerned. "Tibetan beetles. The previous tenant must have been traveling with them and they escaped. The entire floor is being fumigated actually. We've had to relocate all of those customers to different floors. I'm afraid then that we only have one room left. That being the case-"

"We'll take it," Sam interjected.

"Sam!" I hissed. "One room? For the three of us?"

"Oh, grow up," she muttered. "Like you've never had to share a room with a girl before." As a matter of fact I hadn't, but now didn't seem a good time to point that out.

"Fine, whatever," I said.

"Are you sure?" asked the woman, her speculative gaze bouncing back and forth between Sam and I.

"Yeah yeah, we're sure!" Sam was impatient now. "Can you just give us the flippin' keys already?"

I suppose I should back up and explain what the heck we were doing here in the first place.

You see, a recent iCarly episode in which we managed to interview the music sensation Jason Bieler literally was the fourth most-watched live webcast ever. Now, I'm not personally much of a fan of Jason Bieler. He sounds like a fourth grader to me and it's impossible to listen to the radio nowadays without hearing his bubblegum lyrics every five minutes. Still, fame is fame and that single interview catapulted iCarly into the stratosphere.

After that, we became the definitive young adult web show. Hands down. Even Dingo Studios' practically unlimited budget couldn't put Totally Teri, the web-broadcast iCarly rival they'd developed, on top. By now it was practically obsolete. Suddenly, we were getting invited to interviews with everyone from Jay Leno to The View. Ad sponsors were clawing tooth and nail for a slot on the website. And iCarly was getting ratings that looked more like television than web show.

So an exec at a certain major broadcast corporation had the idea to syndicate us, turn iCarly into an actual TV show. Crazy, right? But Vincent Lee (that was the guy's name) wouldn't give up. He was on a weekend deadline to get a primetime slot filled, and the stale, formulaic sitcom the network would put in if he didn't was apparently too horrible to contemplate. What he asked of us was simple: come to the regional offices and present some of our best work to the board of directors.

Well, okay maybe not that simple at all. I for one didn't think iCarly could ever work as a TV show and I didn't think any network would seriously consider making it one. Surprisingly though, Carly and Sam were kind of. . .invigorated by the idea. Especially Sam, she was practically salivating at the thought of having a dressing room with premium cable and a never-ending supply of T-bones all day. Carly was a bit more reserved, but she still wanted to check it out.

So we put together a portfolio of sorts, a collection of some of our best ideas for skits, on-air contests, jokes, and even a new fake news segment that I had suggested. I grudgingly put all of this into a slick presentation for Vincent's board meeting, and the three of us got ready for a trip back to. . .yes, Wisconsin.

I looked out the window of the hotel room and immediately wished I hadn't. Snow was coming down outside and it wasn't the pretty kind. Fat, wet clusters that were clouding up the window and covering street and sidewalk alike. Moving around down there was not gonna be fun.

I heard a phone snapping forcefully shut behind me. I turned and realized that the whole time I'd been lost in my thoughts, Sam had been on the line with someone. If the look on her face was indication, she did not like what she'd heard. "Who was that?" I asked.

"My Aunt Bethula," she snapped sarcastically, tossing her phone to the bed without any seeming regard for whether it survived the fall. Oh, and yes, that's _bed_. Singular. Part of me had been hoping that the single room might have double beds and even a divider curtain. Not so much. Just one queen size bed across from a TV and a rocking chair near the window. _That's certainly gonna be awkward._

Whatever Sam had heard on the phone call must have really hit her because her shoulders slumped and she actually looked directly at me. "Sorry," she muttered. "That was Carly. Her flight got canceled."

"What?"

She nodded. "Freak snowstorm or something like that just hit Seattle. All the flights are grounded and the earliest she'd be getting here would be tomorrow afternoon."

I threw my hands up in frustration. Fumigated rooms and freak snowstorms. What else could go wrong today? "Well, she might as well cancel the flight altogether then, because by tomorrow afternoon it'll be too late. Shoot, we might as just stay here and-"

"Nuh uh," interjected Sam. She stood up, which despite the fact that I'm a lot taller than her now is still very intimidating."We're still giving the presentation Freddie, it'll just have to be me and you."

"No way," I shot back. You know how much I suck at the public speaking thing. And let's face it you'd just scare 'em all away. Besides, I've thought this was a dumb idea from the start."

"But you still agreed to it," she pointed out.

"Yeah. With _Carly_ actually giving the presentation."

She paused. "Well, what about Vincent?"

"He'll get over it."

"His job might be on the line," she countered, knowing that one would stop me in my tracks. Stupid idea or not, we'd agreed to help Vincent out and the thought of going back on that didn't sit well with me.

Sam cocked her head to the side, apparently satisfied with my response. "You still have Vincent's emails right?"

"Yeah. And his phone number actually. We should check and make sure they still want the presentation without Carly."

She gave a dismissive snort. "Good idea, hopefully _you_ being up there won't be too much of a turn-off for 'em."

I pretended I hadn't heard her. "At least the room won't be as crowded," I said, glancing once again at the single bed.

Sam's gaze followed me and she immediately jumped on the mattress, glaring at me. "Don't even think about it, Fredwipe. You're on the floor."

"No fair!" I protested. _You_ were the one who was all, 'oh yeah the three of us can squeeze into one hotel room just fine!'"

She didn't look convinced. "Well, I'm sure as fudge not sleeping on the floor!"

"Me neither!" I clipped back. It was an argument that probably would have ended with me being beaten with hotel room furniture, were it not for the blaring ringtone of my PearPhone. Startled and a bit confused, I whipped it out to see an unknown number.

I held it up cautiously. "Hello?"

There was a hiss of static on the other end. Then, "Freddie Benson, I presume."

"Yes. . ." Realization dawned. "Wait, is this Vincent Lee?"

"Yep, last time I checked! How's it going Freddie, did you guys get into Milwaukee yet? Man, don't let all this snow scare you, this city can be an awesome place. Especially downtown- hey we should grab dinner at this place-"

"Vincent," I said abruptly.

He stopped mid-sentence. "Yeah?"

"Carly couldn't make it. Her flight from Seattle got canceled." I cast a sideways glance at Sam, who seemed to be holding her breath like I was. What if that did end up being a deal-breaker for Vincent? Surprisingly, I found myself hoping that we would have the chance to make the damn presentation. Especially having gone through so much trouble."

Vincent ended the long pause on his end with a laugh. "Okay," he said.

My eyebrows shot up. "That's it? 'Okay'?"

"Yeah. You have the presentation portfolio with you right?"

"It's all on my laptop," I assured him. "Plus Sam Puckett is here as well."

"Shouldn't be a problem," he said smoothly. "Hey, listen, why don't we meet over at this great restaurant I know called _LeFranc_, dinner on me. It's just a few blocks from your hotel and I can get a company limo to pick us up from there after we chat a bit. Sound good?"

"Um, yeah!" I stuttered. "Thanks so much Mr. Lee."

"Just Vincent," he corrected good-naturedly. "How does seven work?"

_Seven?_ I mouthed to Sam. She gave a quick nod.

"That works," I said. "Seeya then."

"Yup, lookin forward to it." And with that he clicked off, returning me back to Sam and the hotel room with what must've been the world's most dazed expression plastered on my face. "He's still interested," I breathed. "He still wants us to do the presentation."

"Of course he does," said Sam, matter-of-factly. "That's cuz we're the chizz." She frowned. "Why does he want to meet at some cafe anyway? Wouldn't it be easier just to take us straight to the regional office?"

"He's paying for dinner," I reminded her.

"Ohhh." A wicked grin spread across her face. "_Nice_. He's gonna regret that one."

How Sam managed to keep a flat stomach with her eating habits was a complete mystery to me. Still, I didn't doubt her for a moment. "Sounds like a fancy place Sam, hope you brought something other than jeans and tennis shoes."

She rolled her eyes again. "Relax, I can clean up pretty well Fred. _You_ might wanna find a good comb though".

Alarmed, I darted to glance at the nearest mirror. "Really? Cuz it looks fine to-" With no warning Sam strode over and ruffled my hair, ignoring my yelps of protest.

"_Now_ you need a comb," she pronounced smugly, reaching up flick a stray lock even further out of place. Then something in her expression changed. "Cripes, Fred, when'd you get so tall?" she murmured, as if just noticing it for the first time. The question caught me so off guard that I was speechless. What did that have to do with anything?

Then, the expression, whatever it was, disappeared. She shook her head quickly, as if clearing something from the corners of her mind. She broke eye contact and seemed to have a newfound interest in the carpet. "Whatever. Um, I'm gonna get showered and changed then."

"Cool. I'll um. . .take a quick nap til you get out."

I nodded slowly, still a bit confused as to what had just happened. "Yeah. . ."

As she shut the bathroom door behind her, I found myself thinking that Sam and I had been having a lot of those moments lately. Scarily enough, they reminded me of our shared first kiss, right in the aftermath when we'd both been trying to process what had happened. True, that night was years past, but if I was honest with myself I'd have to admit that ever since the dynamic between Sam and I was. . .different somehow.

I plopped down on the bed. All these mental calisthenics were giving me a headache. For now, it was best to just focus on the task at hand. I could worry about Sam and whatever was going on between us later.

* * *

**Sam**

_What have I gotten us into?_

Okay, so despite all that talk out there, I honestly had no idea how we were gonna pull this off without Carly. Even with her the TV thing had seemed like a long shot. Apart from that. . .well, me and Freddie aren't exactly known for our charisma.

_What else have I gotten us into?_

Right. The hotel room sharing thing. Even taking a relaxing hot shower with an actual showerhead (most of the motels I've stayed in, that was a luxury) couldn't get my mind off Freddie. I tried to tell myself that bein' all close and stuff was nothing new, but the truth? It kind of was. Freddie being so freaking tall, for one thing. . .when had that happened? Or his shoulders. Since when did Freddie have such broad, strong-looking shoulders? Since when could I even think that without wanting to wash my brain out with soap?

Truth be told, I didn't even know when I'd started noticing all these things. But lately, I had been. And I wasn't the only one- Mr. Oblivious there never picked up on, but a lot of the female student body had been giving _his _student body extra attention as of late. They never tended to act on it (Carly thinks because I scare them), but I definitely wasn't the only one sensing that Freddie had grown up a little bit.

Under the jet streams of hot water, my breath seemed to catch in my throat. Did that mean I liked Freddie? Like that? The thought was so disorienting that immediately tilted my head up into the shower. That was ridiculous! Of course not, it was just. . .

A pounding on the door. "Hey Sam, you've been in there for a while! Think it might be someone else's turn?"

_Chizz!_ And when did his voice get so deep? I felt like a silly schoolgirl all of sudden, and the feeling itself was beyond repulsive. I couldn't even reply to Freddie. Rather, I shut off the shower, threw on a towel, collected my things, and yanked the door open.

His eyes widened comically, dropping to the towel, and then quickly darting up to some point above my head. He cleared his throat, blushing. "Um, thanks Sam."

"Just hurry up already," I snapped. "Don't want to have to spend more time in here with you than necessary."

Another thing, my zingers just didn't faze Freddie anymore like they used to. More often (case in point), he'd just arch a knowing eyebrow and continue on about his business. I watched him disappear into the bathroom and yelled out a parting. "Don't open the door anytime soon, I'm changing!" In response I merely heard the sound of running water.

Satisfied that he wasn't coming out for a while, I rummaged around for my 'nice clothes'. Black dress pants, moderate heels, and a long-sleeved turquoise blouse over a black undershirt seemed fancy enough to me. If not, well it was the dressiest outfit I'd brought with me. It would have to do. I went similarly modest on the makeup and decided to put my hair up. Nightmarish as they were, I was finding these concessions to fashion easier and easier. And thanks to my pageant days I could get dressed and prepped in practically no time.

A half hour later when Freddie exited I was already dressed, ready to go, and watching TV. I wasn't prepared for a shirtless Freddie, but that's exactly what I caught in my peripheral vision before he quickly slid a T-shirt down and over what I had to admit was a pretty nice form. If he noticed what had to have been an obvious reaction, he didn't show it.

"Dressed already?" he asked, a tinge of admiration in his voice.

"Yeah," I said nonchalantly, switching channels on this unfamiliar cable scheme. The next station, wouldn't you know it, was the Dingo channel.

"Nancy Nevada?" snorted Freddie, "I thought you hated that show."

"I hate this whole channel," I said. "But yeah, that especially goes for Nancy Nevada." I hurriedly flicked to a different station and glanced back over the resident tech producer, who seemed to be having a difficult time with his tie. He was fumbling with it, clearly at a loss for how to make a good knot. It was endearing, I have to admit. But regardless, we needed to get going and he wasn't going to get it anytime soon without help.

"Here," I said impatiently, walking over to stand in front of him. "Let me."

He looked dubious. "You can tie these things?"

"Yeah. . ." I hurriedly unraveled the knotted mess he'd made and measured up the two ends. "Geez Freddie stop fidgeting."

"Sorry, it's just. . ." where'd you learn how to-"

"My mom. Don't ask why." I looped and threaded and pulled, and tried to ignore the fact that up close he smelled really good. I could feel lean muscle whenever my fingertips brushed the fabric of his shirt, which in my opinion was completely unfair. Geeks weren't supposed to be all toned and whatnot.

Long as it felt, finishing up the tie only took about thirty seconds. I stepped back when I was done, allowing Freddie to examine my handiwork in the mirror. He looked impressed. "Not bad, Sam."

I gave a casual shrug. "Just a Double Windsor. No big deal. It looks nice."

He smiled. "You're not looking too bad yourself, Puckett."

"Well, of course I do," I said matter-of-factly. "Now come _on_, Freddie." I was already shrugging on my coat. "Don't wanna be late, right?"

He shut his mouth, but the smile didn't fade completely. "Right."

* * *

**Freddie**

If anything, when we ventured back outside it had only gotten colder. Or rather, _windier_. It was like a constant icy attack on my face, and I promised myself that I'd invest in a pair of earmuffs and a good hat next time I got the chance. And some gloves. Jamming my hands in my coat pocket was not working all that well.

"I hate seeing my own breath," Sam was muttering, half to herself. "Some things you should be able to see. Breath? Not so- Oh thank God!"

I looked up at her sudden exclamation and realized that we'd arrived. _About time_. I practically skipped the last few steps to the door, my mood brightened enough that I even held the door open for Sam.

Inside the restaurant was warm, which is about the only charitable thing that could be said about the interior. Clearly, it had once been a factory and any renovations since then were only at ground level. The lighting was artificially reddened and provided by ugly little bulbs that dangled from the impossibly high ceiling. Annoying French pop was being spewed out of similarly dangling speakers. That combined with the knockoff Baroque paintings that somehow passed for décor almost made me want venture back out into the cold.

"I love it," Sam whispered.

_Figures. _I approached the maitre d', a middle-aged mustachioed man in a cheap tuxedo. "Hey-"

"_Bonjour, monsieur_." The flat Midwestern _snerr_ behind his accent made me want to cringe. He looked down at an important-looking leather portfolio. "_Monsieur_ Benson _e Mademoiselle_ Puckett, I presume."

"Puckett, like bucket," Sam corrected him. "Not 'Puck-ay'. And yeah, that's us."

"_Magnifique!"_ he beamed. "Your table is right there, toward the center of our dining room. I have been told to direct you there _immediatemente_ by a Mr. Vincent Lee. May I take your coats and bag, by the way?"

"Thanks, but that's not necessary," I assured him. "We'll just meet our company if that's okay."

"Of course, and I hope you enjoy your meal," he called after us.

Vincent wasn't hard to spot. He was even younger than he sounded over the phone, maybe early twenties with short, jet black hair and a matching goatee. He wore a suit and tie, making me glad I'd thought to wear one myself. And he recognized us immediately. Genially, he beckoned us over to his booth.

"Freddie, Samantha, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," he began, extending a hand first to me, then Sam. Hers he shook a bit longer than was necessary, and smooth or not he was clearly checking her out. A bit irked, I cleared my throat.

"You too Vincent." I looked around. "Interesting choice of venue."

"It's one of my favorite restaurants," he confided. "Overpriced American food prepared by Hispanic chefs in what used to be a factory for German beer. And yet they try so hard for the French affectation, it's amusing really."

"Yeah," Sam eagerly agreed, though I suspected she didn't really follow him either. "Any recommendations on what we should order?"

"A glass of wine to start, perhaps?" he suggested. "On me, of course."

Sam perked up at this. "Sounds great!"

Shocked, I nudged her in the arm. "Sam, this isn't the time to be drinking-" I hissed.

She jabbed me back hard enough to bruise. "It's just a glass of wine- I can handle it."

Looking slightly amused, Vincent beckoned a waitress to our table. "Two glasses of the house wine," he said. "That'll be it for now." Once she'd left, he turned his attention back on us. "You know I've been of your show for quite some time," he said frankly. "Ever since my high school days in fact. You guys are going on what, five years?"

"Yep," I said proudly.

"Wow, that's really something. I can't imagine how you can keep putting out fresh material show after show. It's like you got creativity on unlimited tap or something."

"Well," said Sam modestly, "I think a lot of it is just the humor and fun we see in our everyday lives."

He laughed. "I wish my life was so interesting. Working in broadcasting is a lot more dull than you might think. Though it's always nice to have moments just like these, the opportunity to bring raw talent to a huge audience."

The guy could certainly flatter. "Well," I began, "do you think we could honestly make transition to TV?"

"Of course we can," Sam cut in. She smiled apologetically at Vincent. "You'll have to forgive Fred here, he's kinda timid sometimes."

"Oh, no problem at all, it's an excellent question." Vincent steepled his hands together. "I think iCarly would make a phenomenal TV show. And I'm rarely wrong about these things."

As if on cue, the waitress arrived with two glasses of wine for Sam and Vincent, and a glass of water for me. The blood red drinks looked interesting. I'd never had alcohol before but in all honesty I was a bit tempted.

Vincent raised his glass in the prelude to a toast. "To iCarly," he said warmly.

"Hear hear." We all clinked our glasses together.

He turned to me. "By the way, you did bring the laptop Freddie, didn't you?"

"Yep."

"Mind if I take a look?"

I unzipped my bag bringing out my computer. "The portfolio is all under the 'TV Material' folder," I explained. "It's all in there, jokes, special segments, rough takes of some new skits, even ideas for celebrity interviews and guest appearances. Lotta work went into this baby."

As he skimmed through the files, he nodded. "I can tell, this is some quality stuff."

Sam gave me an I-told-you-so look, sipping from her wineglass. Clearly it was a taste to get used to, if the way her eyebrows shot up was any indication. I smirked at her and turned back to Vincent, who by now was perusing some of the video clips.

"Amazing," he murmured. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. Funny, inventive, original. . .this would just about kill any other program like it on a primetime slot. Why-"

I heard the sound of glass colliding with table and jerked my head to see Sam, hand trembling, face rapidly going pale. Her eyes were wide with alarm. "Sam?" I began uneasily.

She put a clammy hand to her throat, then stomach. "Whabrrghh." Her voice was raspy and garbled, and she suddenly slumped to the side like a marionette with its strings cut. _What the heck?_

"Oh no," spoke up Vincent. "I think she's going into anaphylactic shock."

"You mean like from allergies? I don't think-"

"Quick!" He reached across the table, grabbed both my shoulders, and looked me straight in the eye. "Go find the manager. Ask for an Epipen, they should have at least one in the back. Get it bring it back here ASAP."

I was confused, but not too confused to follow simple orders. "Yeah, sure. I'm on it." A felt a lump in my throat as I rushed toward the front desk. _Please be okay Sam._

_

* * *

_

**Sam**

My tongue felt like it had been inflated and set loose in my mouth. My vision was going fuzzy, my hands clammy. I felt like I'd just been thrown from a roller coaster off the edge of a cliff. _What the chizz?_

"Quick!" I head Vincent say. "Go find the manager!" Or something like that. I couldn't tell because at that moment I felt what I still had in my stomach coming back up.

Oh gross, I thought just before heaving. Freddie'll never let me live this one down.

I heard the laptop click shut. Confused, I looked back over the edge of the table, ignoring the cries of other customers who'd witnessed what I'd done. Brian was closing the laptop and putting it into his bag. Freddie was still nowhere to be found.

"What'reyou. Whadbllggh" I still couldn't speak. But I could see well enough and what I saw was enough to make my blood freeze. Vincent no longer wore a nice, genial smile. It had turned cold and cunning. He regarded me with bored apathy as I struggled to formulate a basic word.

"I have no idea what you're saying," he said calmly. "But if you've guessed by now that I put something in your drink, well. . .I truly am sorry. Perhaps you should have listened to your boyfriend there." He leaned in, amused by my helplessness. "Don't worry, the effects will wear off soon enough, I promise. I just needed a distraction to get my hands on this." He patted the satchel that now held Freddie's laptop. "Welcome to Brew City, Samantha Puckett. Dingo Studios sends its regards."

I could only watch in mute fury as he strode off in the midst of all the mayhem and confusion.

* * *

**::Author's Note::**

Any canon mistakes are mine of course, unfortunately I haven't had the opportunity to see every episode. Hopefully they don't detract too much.

Well, there goes the first chapter. Conflict, tension, a lil romance. . .hopefully you enjoyed. And if you're reading this then thanks for making it to the end of Chapter 1. Please, review and tell me what you thought (the good, the bad and the ugly). And if you want to see more of course. . .

Til next time!

-C


	2. Plotting Revenge

**Chapter 2**

**Freddie**

In order to get back to the table, I had to shove my way past about a dozen people gathered around it. One was knelt next to the booth, sitting Samantha up and checking her pulse and vitals. A doctor, I assumed. The restaurant staff was frozen in mute shock, and the restaurant manager himself looked like his day could've gone better. He'd refused to give me the Epipen, but instead brought it along himself. From the looks of things though, it wouldn't be needed. The color was already returning to Sam's complexion and she could speak again, answering all the doctor's questions in full, complete sentences.

The manager said a really, really bad word under his breath. "Someone please get this table cleaned up," he snapped loudly. A dozen restaurant staff immediately sprang into action. "As for you," he said, whirling on Sam, "What is this meaning of this. You have become sick for no reason! No food served, and yet here you are vomiting all over my table and my floor?"

She gave him what I supposed was her best apologetic face. Unsuprisingly, it wasn't that impressive. "I'm so sorry," she said. "It was the man who was here with us. I think he put something in my drink."

My mind was reeling. Come to think of it, Vincent was gone. Along with. . .

"He drugged me as a distraction so he could steal our laptop."

The manager snorted, even as I was stunned mute by the implications of this. "Likely story," he said. "In any case, I will have to ask you to leave my restaurant immediately and kindly not return."

"Our pleasure," I snapped back at the manager. Sam might be kind of abrasive, but the guy had no right to talk to her like that.

"C'mon," I said, offering Sam my shoulder to lean on. Whatever Vincent put in her drink must've been a doozy because she actually let me. I helped her into her coat, shrugged mine on, and led her out of the restaurant. Her arm around my neck and mine around her waist. I felt horrible, seeing Sam like this. And mad. A slow, simmering anger that threatened to burst into an inferno. There was no sign of Vincent anywhere, which was a good thing because I didn't know if I could've trusted myself not to go sprinting after him in a flurry of kicks and punches.

No, there was only wind and cold. And Sam. She leaned into me and I hugged her even closer as we made our way back to the hotel. No point trying to say anything, the wind was so loud we'd have had to scream to be heard. The sidewalk and streets were practically deserted and on top of that it had gotten very, very dark in the short time we'd been inside LeFranc.

Wordlessly, we headed into the lobby elevator, still shivering off the residual cold. I reached the room first, so I opened it for Sam who plopped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I did the same.

Silence, then. "DAMMIT!"

Her outburst didn't surprise me in the least. I knew it would be coming sooner or later. I glanced over, but she was still staring up at the ceiling, her mouth set in an angry, determined line. "We couldn't have known that Vincent-"

"Yeah we could've," she cut me off vehemently. "And we should've. But that's not the point. That chizzstain _drugged _me. He drugged me and laughed about it to my face while I'm a helpless mess trying not to projectile vomit all over the floor." She was breathing hard now, and for once I'd say her ire was completely justified. She turned to me. "Do you know what he said? He said 'Dingo Studios sends its regards'."

"What a tool," I muttered.

Sam sat up suddenly, eyes blazing. "We can't let them get away with this!"

I sighed. "There's not a whole lot we can do Sam. He's got the laptop now, and it's not like we can ever prove he took it."

Sam plopped back down, turning on her side to face me. Her eyes held something that I rarely ever saw: worry. "What do you think he wants with the laptop in the first place?" she wondered aloud.

I shrugged. It's pretty obvious, isn't it? If he actually works for Dingo, then he probably wanted our best stuff to use for-"

"Totally Teri," Sam finished, disgust in her voice. "And here I thought they'd learned their lesson."

I let out a dry laugh. "Instead they just got. . .sneakier." I started upright, yanking out my PearPhone and booting up its applications. Something had just hit me, and if my hunch was correct. . .

"What?" Sam pressed impatiently.

"Well. . ." I stood up, gesturing wildly with my hands. Explaining things has defnitely never been my strong point. "My mom, she's paranoid as chizz, right?"

"Tchyeah she is."

"So she's always trying to find ways to keep track of me. She used to have the microchip embedded under my skin if you'll recall."

"Creepy."

"But then I got it deactivated. So she would put trackers on my shoes, my toothbrush. . ."

"Your laptop?"

"Maybe. We'll find out in jut a sec." I set up the homebrew app I'd created to root out my mom's trackers, and piggybacked its detection off a communications satellite. Not exactly legal, but if these weren't desperate times I couldn't imagine what would qualify. First, nothing. Then: "Here we go," I announced triumphantly. "She _did _put one in my computer, and I can trace it from my Pearphone."

"What?" She leaped off the bed and yanked the phone from me. "Where?"

Irritated, I yanked it back. "Here, let's overlay the tracking device with a GPS grid. . ." I hurriedly entered a few more touchstrokes and waited for the screen to load.

Sam jabbed me. "Explain it." I was too excited to even take offense.

I pointed to the red dot that centered the screen. "This is my laptop," I explained. "I isolated the homing beacon and set the results over a GPS map of the city."

"So now we know exactly where he is?"

"Well, technically. Don't forget that we're still really unfamiliar with this city. And if Vincent is halfway as smart as I think he is he'll hop on the first plane out of here." I knew it was true, and with that our chances of ever getting the laptop back seemed to dwindle back to nothing.

Sam's brow furrowed, a sure sign that she was unusually deep in thought. Wordlessly, she went over the desk facing the bed and opened her own laptop, enabling the video sharing function. "Sit," she ordered.

So I did.

"Carly needs to be a part of this conversation," she said. "I'm puttin' her on video chat." With that, she plopped down right beside me, in range of the laptop's camera. The screen was blank for a moment, then Carly appeared her hands somewhere above adjusting the camera.

"Hey!" she greeted us. "Sorry I couldn't make it but I'm sure-" she trailed off, her smile fading. "Wait, what's wrong. You guys look like someone just wazzed on your best pair of shoes."

"Metaphorically, that's not too far off point," I told her. "Vincent is a fraud."

"A fraud?" Disbelief was etched on her face. "Wait, how do you know?"

Sam took this one. "Cuz he totally put something in my drink that made me sick, then made Freddie go get the manager. And while I'm puking my guts out he laughs, takes the laptop, and tells me that Dingo Studios sends their regards."

"What?" Carly shrieked. "No way! I mean, no _way_. Please tell me you're kidding."

I looked straight into the camera. "Dead serious." And I told her the rest of the story, how we'd come back to the hotel, humiliated. How I'd uncovered the tracking gimmick and where that left us.

Which just about did it for her smile. "Well, you have backups right?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course I do. But that's beside the point. Obviously Dingo wants to use our ideas, and right now there's no way we can stop them. Between the three of us, there's what, like dozens of man hours invested in that laptop? And since the entire TV network deal was a sham from the start, we won't have the budget to actually implement any of it in the forseeable future."

Carly scowled. "I think_ I'll _puke if I see one of our routines on Totally Teri or Warlocks of Wimbledon or. . .any of those asinine shows on Dingo."

"Second that," piped up Sam. She turned to me. "Well, is there any way he could email the data from your laptop or maybe even transfer it to a flash?"

I shook my head, having anticipated the question. "Nope, I've got security protocols for situations like this. Password encryption and complete system lockdown. I'm sure the tech guys at Dingo could get through it but short of that, no one's gonna be able to get into it."

"Which means," said Sam, "That he has to physically get the laptop to them, right?"

"Right?"

Carly snapped her fingers. "I just remembered too, all the outbound flights out of Milwaukee are canceled for tomorrow. It's the same storm system that hit Seattle. If you guys can catch up with him before he hops on a plane back to Dingo-"

"That's a big 'if'," I reminded her.

"Yeah, but if you can. . ." Carly was more animated now. "It's our only shot you guys."

Sam punched a fist into her open palm. "I'd like to spend a little quality time with Vincent," she said. "Let him know just what mama thinks about chizzbags who poison her."

I gritted my teeth, annoyed as always at Sam's tendency to slip into the third person. Still, I could echo her sentiment. Vincent had well and truly pissed me off as well.

Carly looked down at the bottom of her computer screen. "You guys, I have to go," she said. "I know it's a longshot but please, if you can, get that laptop back."

"Okay," said Sam and I simultaneously.

Carly giggled at this, lightening the mood a bit. "By the way, how are you too getting along without me there to break up your fights?"

"Fine," Sam answered a little too quickly.

"We're good," I spoke up, also a bit too quickly.

The computer image of Carly did a double take, back and forth between Sam and I. She smiled, as if privy to some inside joke. "I'll call you guys tomorrow," she finally said. "Good luck."

"We'll need it," Sam muttered as Carly signed off.

* * *

**Sam**

After another shower I stepped out of the bathroom and almost wasn't surprised to see Freddie already in the bed. He'd changed into pajamas and was writing in a notepad by lamplight.

I cleared my throat. "Thought we already had this conversation, Fredtard."

He looked up from the notepad, peering at me from underneath an unruly clump of hair that had fallen over his forehead. "C'mon Sam, neither of us wants the floor, and this is a Queen size for chrissakes. We'll survive sharing just this once."

My mind scrambled for a logical comeback. Nothing. "Fine, but if I strangle you in my sleep don't go crying to mommy about it."

Freddie's expression went full-on panic mode. "Oh, _shoot_!"

"What?" I cautiously sat down at the other end of the bed. "I was just kidding. I probably won't actually-"

"My mom," interrupted Freddie. "I forgot to call her, she'll be furious." He leapt up and scurried into a corner of the room, phone in tow.

Amused, but too tired to thoroughly mock him, I readied for sleep. It had been an emotionally and physically exhausting day, but I still wanted to be able to wake up bright and early to get to the business of beating the living chizz out of Vincent Lee.

Grabbing one of the extra pillows, I stuck it halfway down the middle of the bed, like a divider line. Freddie was still trying to placate his mom over the phone, but I made sure he got a good look at my expression, which read something like _cross this line and you die._

Satisfied that the point had been made, I curled up under the covers and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**Freddie**

"We caught him!" exulted Sam, standing over the kneeling form of one Vincent Lee. He groaned and tried to push himself into a sitting position but Sam casually kicked his support arm from underneath him, sending Vincent in pathetic mess right back to the ground. She looked directly at me. "Couldn't have done it without you Freddie. And to think I used to make fun of you all the time."

"I know, you definitely saved the day," said Carly. _Wait, where had she come from?_

"I thought you were in Seattle," I blurted, confused.

"Not anymore baby, I just couldn't stand being apart from you," she told me in a very throaty and un-Carly like voice. She ran up and threw her arms around my neck. "Freddie I miss being with you so much."

_What the hell?_ Past Carly, I could see Sam staring at us with a pained expression. "Wake up," she murmured.

"But. . .Carly," I began, dazed.

"Freddie, wake up!" Sam yelled at me.

I did, sitting up so fast I nearly got whiplash. I took instant stock of my surroundings. No Vincent, no Carly, just one pissed off Sam at the edge of the bed. I put a hand behind my head, more than a little embarassed. "Sorry," I apologized. "Interesting dream."

She snorted. "Must've been, the way you kept moaning Carly's name."

"I was not," I protested, scooting off the edge of the bed and rummaging through my luggage.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Fredna. Anyway, it's nine already and we don't wanna lose track of Vincent."

"Right." I took a moment to really look at her and noticed she was already showered and dressed. She looked different too, sometime this morning she'd had the occasion to straighten her hair. It looked too good for me to even comment on, if that makes any sense, so I filed it away in my mind. "Geez, when'd you wake up?" I asked.

"Early. Didn't feel like fighting over the bathroom and all that," she said flatly. "Now hurry up and get ready, the buses are gonna be running really slow."

I'd grabbed everything I'd need to get showered and dressed, but still stopped right in my tracks when I heard this. "Bus? No way, we can just take a cab."

"Forget it Freddie, Bayside Mall is way too far away for that and I don't feel like wasting half our budget on cab fare."

I pictured waiting in the snowy, freezing cold for a dilapidated bus. It wasn't a pleasant scenario. Then pictured getting Sam to change her mind. Unlikely.

Shooting her a look that I hoped conveyed my misgivings, I closed the bathroom door behind me. Either way, we had a long day ahead of us.

* * *

**Sam**

We both ended up having to stop at the nearest drugstore for warm weather gear. Gloves, earmuffs, scarves, the works. It was sinfully cold outside, and the still-falling snow made visibility a joke. One stroke of luck in our favor was that a single bus could take us all the way to Bayside, but we'd been waiting for twenty minutes with no sign of it.

Freddie ad I sat alone at the bus stop, shivering and not much else. I was silently putting all of this unpleasantness into a mental box called 'Things Vincent Will Pay For', and the thought of gleefully pulverizing him up and down Milwaukee brought at least some comfort.

"Whoa," said Freddie. "You had a really evil expression just now."

"You don't know the half of it," I said between chattering teeth. He was silent for a moment but then, unexpectedly:

"I wish Carly were here."

The biting comeback was on my tongue before I could even think about stopping it. "Yeah I _bet_ you do."

He glanced at me sharply from over his scarf. "What's that supposed to mean?"

In my best Freddie voice I moaned, "Oh, Carly, I dream about you all the time. I'm so madly in love with you and want to marry you and father your children and grow old by your side!"

"What?" Freddie cried. Despite the cold, he pulled his scarf down. "First of all, I don't even _think _of Carly like that anymore, not that it's any of your business."

Why I was both relieved to hear about his lack of feelings for Carly and a little hurt that he considered it none of my business, I couldn't really explain. "You're right," I replied stonily, "it is none of my business."

He sighed. "I'm just saying, I'd feel a lot better about all this if it was the three of us and not just me and you with this crazy plan that might not even work."

The sadness in his voice thawed me out a little bit. "I wish she was here too," I said. "But we got this."

This got a half smile out of him. "You think so?"

"Tchyeah." I put all the confidence in my voice I could muster. "Totally." The cold made it sound like 't-t-t-totally' and we both laughed at that. Which is when I realized that there on a freezing bus stop in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Fred and I were having a moment. Maybe it was something about the proximity and the cold and the unfamiliar setting, but it wasn't hard to imagine him putting his arm around me and drawing me close for warmth, like an actual couple. It wasn't hard to imagine liking it.

He averted his eyes just in time before things got awkward. "Here we go," he said.

"Here we go?"

"The bus-"

"Oh. Right." And there it was, moving about two miles an hour through the slush-filled street. Finally though, it pulled up, the door opening with a lazy whirring sound.

Fred was the first in. "Bayside Mall, right?"

"Yeah, this route ends up over there," said the older woman behind the wheel.

We boarded, and to my surprise the bus was completely empty. We found a pair of seats near the front, right in front of the bus's heater which felt like heaven after waiting so long outside.

After a bit of jostling Fredddie pulled out his PearPhone and opened the tracking app he'd been using to keep tabs on Vincent. "He's still there, no movement since last night."

"Good." I started planning out our next move. "Can you bring up a list of stores at Bayside?"

"Yep." A succession of taps and he handed me the device. I skimmed through all the stores, ignoring the mainline ones like Aeropostle and Cinnabon. Sears, that could be useful. And a few other ones held promise as well. In my mind, a plan was already beginning to take place. Taking the time to straighten my hair might just have secondary benefits, disappointed as I was that Freddie hadn't seemed to take notice.

I glanced over at him, trying to see him as the old, annoying and dorky Freddie. It wasn't like I could pinpoint what exactly was different about him now, but somewhere along the way it became hard not to think of him as just. . .a guy.

"Who's just a guy?" asked Fred.

"Nothing!" I mentally kicked myself for thinking out loud. "I mean, no one."

"Right." He yawned. "Well, I'm takin a little nap, wake me when we get there will ya?"

"Fine," I'm playin' games on your phone though."

I got delicate and distinctively Fred-like snoring in response. Despite everything, I found myself smiling inside. Some things never changed.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Well there goes Chapter 2. the plot thickens and the chase begins. Reviews make my day of course so please tell me what you think! More to come soon.


	3. Thelma and Louise

**Chapter 3: Thelma and Louise**

**Freddie**

"This is our stop, let's go Fredmund!"

Courteous, Sam was not. Still, this being the second time today I'd been rudely awakened by her, I was used to it by now. Plus, she was right. We had arrived.

Bayside Mall, surprisingly enough, had a pretty good turnout despite the cold. Families, couples, groups of kids, they were all out and about. They looked just any mass of Seattle natives, except that all the wrong football teams were proudly displayed on coats and hats and earmuffs. One couple wearing particularly awful green and gold outfits was being led by what I guessed was a tour guide up to a tall apartment building inset in the mall area.

"What a bunch of nubs," Sam declared.

"Unnecessary and bogus," I replied. "Why do they have to be nubs?"

"Cuz normal people don't go shopping and jogging and all that chizz when it's this freakin cold."

"In Wisconsin they do," was all I could think to say. "Now c'mon, let's get what we need to get before Vincent decides to take a trip of his own."

That was more than enough to bring Sam back in focus. "Right." We made our way down the aisle of outdoor stores, most of which were girls' clothing stores containing outfits that Sam would probably commit Japanese ritual suicide before wearing. Sam clearly had a specific destination in mind but she was being pretty tight lipped about it.

"Think anybody'll recognize us?" I wondered aloud. So far we weren't attracting any undue attention, but we'd both learned the hard way that anonymity could disappear in an instant.

"Doubt it," Sam said. "My hair's straight and you don't look actually look like a dork for once.

"Your right. With that hair you look almost as pretty as your sister Melanie."

"And you look like an insurance salesman."

We turned the corner, interrupting our little exchange. Still, what did she have against insurance salesmen? Honorable enough profession, in my opinion. What'd they ever do to her?

"Freddie, snap out of it or I'll do it for you," Sam said in a deceptively cheerful singsong voice. Then, flatly. "We're here."

I came to a halt right behind her, in front of a small little store with more clearance signs than merchandise. The sign above read:_ Tanaka's_, telling me absolutely nothing about the kind of store it was.

Curious, I followed Sam inside, where I could get a better look at the place. It was like I'd died and gone to heaven. Swords of every shape and size adorned the walls. Display cases were full of decorative knives, lighters, belt buckles, rings, you name. Most had an Asian, dragon kind of theme going on but there was still decent variety. If I were the smoking type, the entire section of hookahs and bongs would have put me into cardiac arrest.

Sam beamed at me, our spat all but forgotten. "Magical, isn't it?" she said.

"This stuff is pretty cool," I agreed, running a finger over the blade of a particularly long katana held up by twin iron rungs in the shapes of serpents. Dull, but wicked-looking nonetheless. I laughed. "What are you planning, Sam? Gonna chop Vincent into little pieces?"

She shook her head. "Nah. Too elegant, not my style."

A throat clearing from behind made us turn around. There stood a girl about our age, with Asian features and long black hair. She was tall, almost my height, and had on an outfit that looked like it was taken right out of Lady NaNa's closet. Six-inch platforms, a bright pink boa, oversized sunglasses, and matching pink lipstick were what caught my attention at first. Then I noticed the tattoo. It started up above her collar, with a fearsome-looking scaled tail, then it disappeared under her halter top, only to pop back out from underneath her shoulder-cut sleeves. It was beautifully rendered, twisting around her arm like a snake, the gaping cobra mouth stopped just at her wrist, ready to devour her hand.

I was mesmerized.

Sam let out a low whistle. "Nice tat," she said. "Who did it?"

"My dad," answered the girl. "He's a tattoo artist, among other things."

"Like, owner of the store?" I asked.

"Yep. He's the famous Tanaka. I'm Kaila by the way, and I just run the store for him sometimes when he's busy working on a commission." She paused, eyeing us as if to make sure we were keeping up. "Is there anything I can help you find?"

"Got any nunchucks?" Sam piped up.

Kaila arched an eyebrow. "Collector?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Well, my friends, you have come to the right place. Walk with me."

We did, passing a whole bunch of other cool stuff that I could've spent hours just staring at. Sure enough though, past the swords was a smaller aisle with other martial arts paraphernalia. Bo staffs, batons, and of course nunchucks. They were beautiful tools, more art than weapon in my opinion. Still, I wouldn't want to get hit with one.

Sam took this all in like she was at a buffet picking out chicken wings. Some of the nunchucks she lifted from their hooks to closely examine, hefting them in her hands and stretching the chain taut. Most, she put right back, but one different than all the rest, seemed to pique her interest. The handles were made out of some solid transparent substance, fiberglass maybe. They looked and felt durable, and frozen in the middle of each one, like amber, was a single feather. The contrast was stark, almost poetic. I'd have picked that one too.

Sam held it up, looking for a price tag. "Thirty bucks huh?"

"Yep," said Kaila.

"Deal."

"Perfect. Is there anything else-" Kaila stopped mid-sentence, giving us that same speculative look. I realized that I'd misinterpreted it earlier; she was actually trying to figure out where she knew our faces from.

"Sam and Freddie," she breathed. "Oh my god, that's you guys isn't it?"

We exchanged glances, then both did a quick survey of the store. It was nearly empty and there was no one within hearing range anyway.

"You can't tell anyone," I began.

"At least not right now," Sam quickly added. "We're tryna keep a low profile for the time being."

Kaila nodded. "Of course! Our secret. Wow, it's just. . . I can't believe you're way out here. What are you doing in Milwaukee anyway? Where's Carly, is she around here somewhere?"

"No, she's not here right now," said Sam, answering the far easier of the two questions.

"Oh, so it's just . . ." Kaila gave us a knowing grin. "You guys really are an item aren't you? I knew there was something to all this Seddie business. It's about time too, cuz I just watch the show and even I could tell there was enough sexual tension to choke a python."

"Whoa, whoa!" Sam interrupted. "_Eww_, first of all. Me and Fred, not happenin'. Carly's flight got canceled, that's all."

"Yeah," I chipped in. "Me and Sam? That's just ridiculous."

"Huh. If you say so." She jammed her hands deep in her pockets. "Anything else I can do you guys for? Tats? Piercings?-"

"Fred here always wanted a big nose ring," piped up Sam.

"You're pathological, you know that-"

But let's face it, when Sam wants to drown someone out she drowns them out. "No tats or piercings, at least not for now. We could use a pair of rings though. Simple bands, fake silver, the cheapest you've got."

"Done," said Kaila. "Anything else?

"The only other thing we need is a little bit more. . .contraband than that."

The other girl leaned in conspiratorially. "Ooh, now we're talkin'. Hit me."

Sam's voice was nearly a whisper. "Don't suppose you carry any Indies?"

Kaila's brows rose, showing that she at least knew what the heck an Indy was. I remained in the dark. "_Indies_, those are illegal you know," she said

"Meh."

"We definitely don't carry them out here in the shopping space."

"But?"

"But. . ." Kaila could hardly contain her excitement. Hands came out of pockets and formed twin beckoning motions to Sam and I. "Come with me."

We followed her back through the aisles and past the counter, where she opened a door so decorated with posters and memorabilia that I hadn't even noticed it was there. This next room was a lot darker than the main shop, but I was way too curious to care. It was lit by a solitary, naked green bulb dangling from the ceiling. One wall was composed entirely of television monitors, showing security camera feeds from throughout the shop. The other walls were more interesting. Shelves, drawers, and containers of every type.

"You have to understand," Kaila was saying, "I was past puberty before my dad even let me back here. Usually this is a no customer zone. But I'm a big fan, so _de nada._

"_Gracias_," I said appreciatively. She flashed me a wink and then turned back to Sam. "Now, these Indies. Letsee. . ."

"Okay," I interjected while she rummaged through some of the higher cabinets. "Would somebody please tell me what in the world an Indy is?"

"Aha. Got it." Ignored, once again. Kaila poured the contents of a small pouch into her hand. Bright blue cylinders about the dimensions of a cigarette, maybe a little bit longer. Sam's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

"These," announced Kaila, "are Indies. Short for Independence Day, cuz that what it sounds like when one goes off. State of the art miniature firecrackers with a self-contained fuse and ignition system. Reliable and effective."

"In other words," Sam cut in, "Mama needs some of these bad boys. How much for a pack?"

"Well, since I do like you guys-"

"Sam, this is ridiculous we are not buying illegal fireworks! What on earth do you even need these Indians-"

"_Indies_."

"Right, whatever. Why are we even talking about getting them?"

"Just trust me Fredward, they'll come in handy," Sam assured me. "Now take out your wallet."

"What? Okay, um. . ." I took it, at which point she promptly snatched it, picked out two twenties and a ten from the billfold, and held them up.

"Will this cover the nunchucks, the rings, and the Indies?"

"Should do it." The exchange was made before I even had the chance to protest Sam's violation of my wallet. "Pleasure doing business, Kaila added. "Make sure to come and visit soon."

"Oh, we will," Sam told her. "Count on it."

Kaila beamed at us as we left, but before I made it out she grabbed my arm just firmly enough to halt me. I turned around, confused, only to find Kaila standing right there, her face maybe an inch from mine.

"If the Seddie thing really isn't true," she began boldly, " then you should definitely give me a call sometime."

"Um. . ." I felt her hand slip in and out of my jacket pocket. Hot girls and close proximity didn't do well for my speaking abilities.

She winked again. "If not, I understand. You guys are kinda cute together."

"Yo Fredchuck, you comin'?" Sam called from outside.

"Yeah." I winced hearing my own voice crack. "Thanks again for helpin' us out Kaila."

She waved off the compliment, sat down, and blew me a kiss. "Don't mention it. And whatever you two are up to, good luck."

* * *

**Sam**

I couldn't help it. As soon as Fred caught up, I had to ask. "So what was that all about?"

"Huh?" Despite feigned ignorance, he was definitely a bit flushed around the cheeks.

"Kaila, what'd she want at the end there?"

"Oh, nothing. . .just wanted to give me her contact info in case I ever needed to uh. . .y'know, contact-"

"Give it here," I told him.

He sighed, fished the small slip of paper out of his pocket, and handed it to me. I unfolded it and read aloud in my most unflattering voice, "'Call me sometime. 414-555-6723. XOXO'". I arched an eyebrow at Freddy.

"What's that look mean?" he complained.

"I'm trying to figure out what a girl as cool as Kaila saw in you," I said breezily. Then I crumpled up the piece of paper and shoved into my pocket. "Anyway, no hanky panky for you Freddie, we're on a mission."

"'Hanky panky'? What are you, my mom?"

"Thank God no." I jerked my head toward the food court, which thankfully had a few sit down tables. Taking up opposite sides of one of them, Freddie and I finally got a bit of rest from the walking.

I took the opportunity to examine my recent purchases more thoroughly. The nunchucks were so beautiful, I might have cried if I knew how. Each transparent handle with the beautifully preserved feather inlaid seemed to speak to me. "I have to name them," I announced.

Freddie looked up from his PearPhone. "Name who?"

"These babies." I held up the nunchucks, stretching them taught with the clink of metal.

"Right. Letsee, what should we call these inanimate objects?"

"What about the Twin Dragons."

"I think that one's taken."

"Well what would you call them then?"

He snorted. "Knowing you? Thelma and Louise, probably."

_[And that, pardon the interruption, is how my nunchucks came to be known as Thelma and Louise. It's one of my favorite movies ever, and the suggestion was so perfect that I actually managed to thank Fred without throwing up a little bit. Needless to say, Thelma and Louise would have quite the little adventure themselves before this whole matter was resolved. But anyway, back to the story]_

"Sam, you've been keeping me in the dark this entire time. What's you plan? What's up with the nunchucks and the firecrackers? And how are they gonna help us get that laptop back?"

Had I been keeping him in the dark? Maybe. It wasn't like the plan was that complicated though. I pointed to one of the large signs on the rotating billboards that decorated the malls interior.

"Bayside Residential Suites," he read. "So?"

"So, Vincent's been here all night, right?"

Freddie checked his phone. "Still is, actually, a little to the north of where we are. But within a mile I'd say."

"Right. So, he was here all last night and is still here now. What was he doing all that time? Shopping? Impossible, cuz the mall shut down late yesterday afternoon and didn't open again until this morning. Like most malls."

"Good point," Freddie said, looking perplexed.

"So," I continued, the last time we were here, I remembered one of the guests at the wedding talking about new construction at the mall. Housing, specifically. I checked it on your phone on the bus ride here, and now I'm almost positive. The reason we're picking up the signal from Bayside is that he lives here. In the residential suites."

Freddie gave me an approving smile that I instantly wished I could see more often. "That does make a lot of sense," he said. "But it's not like we can just waltz up there. And even if we could, Vincent won't just hand it over."

I lovingly patted the nunchucks. "Well, that's what Thelma and Louise here are for. But first things first, we need entry into that building, right?"

"Right."

"And since he obviously won't buzz us up, we need the building staff themselves to let us in."

"Right," he said a bit more hesitantly.

"So we get a tour."

He was already shaking his head. "No respectable housing enterprise is going to seriously consider a couple of high school students as tenants. We won't get through the front door."

I sighed, knowing that this was where I might very well lose him. "We're not gonna be high school students. Try newlyweds."

He burst out laughing. "You did _not _just say that!"

"We'll make up some names and I'll put my hair up and you'll try to pretend you've actually hit puberty. Trust me, they'll buy it, especially when we tell them that I'm expecting and we're looking for the two-bedrooms. Their large,_ pricey_ two-bedrooms."

Fred leaned back, giving me the full effect of the incredulous expression he was directing my way. "Who in the heck would ever believe that we were-"

"Seddie," I reminded him.

He clearly didn't like being so easily rebutted, so instead of acknowledging that I was right he just shut his mouth firmly. "So I have to pretend to be married to you."

"_For like five minutes. _Then the rest of the plan kicks in, we get to Vincent's apartment, introduce him to Thelma and Louise, and go off on our merry way with the laptop."

"Sounds so simple when you put it like that," he said sarcastically.

"It will be simple," I replied, pulling out the rings we'd purchased earlier from Kaila's store." I placed one on the table and flicked it with my index finger to Fred. "Now put this on, Mr. McCurdy."

He rolled his eyes. "_That's_ what we're calling ourselves?"

"It's a family name," I said defensively, sliding my own ring on the appropriate finger. "Now come on."

* * *

**Freddie**

To be honest I never wear rings. And if anyone had told me that the first time I did it was while pretending to be married to Sam, I'd have laughed myself comatose.

Yet, here we were, examining our reflections in the darkened windows of a closed-down store near the residential tower. Sam had pinned her hair up into a sensible bun that actually did manage to add a few years to her appearance. There was no helping me, despite her complaints that it would be easier if I could 'sack up' and grow some facial hair. Either way, it was a deception that could not have worked even a year ago. But it just might now.

As we strode up to the front door, Sam looped her arm through mine as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I can't lie, I flexed a little before I even caught myself doing it. She just snickered and pushed the door open.

And we were in. The receptionist behind the desk didn't seem to notice that she had new company, so engrossed was she in the computer monitor behind her desk. Sam solved this problem with a loud throat-clearing noise that startled the poor woman halfway out of her chair.

Startled and a bit confused, she adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses and peered at us. "May I help you?"

"Yes ma'am," said Sam in a sweet, yet elegant voice that I'd never even heard before. "My husband and I were wondering if there were any more tours for the building today. You see, we've just heard so many wonderful things about Bayside and wanted to come and get a look for ourselves." She accentuated the end by squeezing on my arm and snuggling her chin onto my shoulder. She smelled really good.

"A _tour_," repeated the receptionist. She pursed her lips. "Well, I don't know about today, usually these things are scheduled in advance you know."

"Oh, but today is the only day that we'll be in town for quite some time," said Sam. "We have so many other places to go see but this is by far the first on our list. We love the location and Lake. . ."

"Michigan," I whispered out of the side of my mouth.

"Michigan is just so beautiful. The perfect place to raise a family. She did the shoulder snuggling thing again and patted her stomach meaningfully. The receptionist's eyes went wide with comprehension." And Sam, to her credit, hadn't missed a beat. "Is there any way that we could just take a quick tour?"

"Well, under the circumstances, I don't see why not," said the woman. "I'll page Jules, the tour guide, and see if we can't get you two a tour after all."

While she did that, I gestured for Sam to turn around and look at what I'd noticed on the way in: a residence list for the apartment.

"Jackpot," whispered Sam, grinning up at me.

I sighed. "Not quite. What do you notice about the names?"

She swore. "No Vincent Lee."

"Not at all. Either we're completely off base, which I doubt. Or Vincent Lee isn't this guy's real name."

She ran a finger down the laminated list. "It doesn't even list first names, just the intial and a last name. Hey, look, there's a V. Leery up on the third floor. What a coinci-"

"Or not," I said. "Most people stick close to their real names even when making fake ones."

"You think that's him?"

"Good chance." I pulled out my PearPhone and booted up the tracking app. I can't tell what elevation the laptop is, but it's definitely in this building." I mentally filed away the room number for 'V. Leery'. Right before an extra pair of footsteps behind us caught our attention.

Jules, our tour guide, was a greasy twenty-something with a nose ring and an ill-fitting Bayside Suites polo over cargo jeans and black military boots. He had Quasimodo's posture and a pair of PearBud earphones that seemed to be permanently attached to his head. Clearly, giving a tour was the last thing he wanted to be doing right now. With any luck, he wouldn't have to for very long.

"Whoa," he said, "you guys are young."

"That's what our parents said," beamed Sam in her new voice. She gazed 'deeply' into my eyes, clasping my left hand in her right. It was subtle, but she manipulated my ring finger just enough so that Jules would get a nice look at the fake wedding band.

"Tell me about it," I joined, throwing an arm around her. "But we've been in love for so long, you know? We just couldn't wait another year."

"It was the happiest day of my life," chipped in Sam.

Jules didn't say anything for quite a while. Then, "Well, um, congrats. Let's do the tour then."

We e filed into the elevator and rode up two flights to the second floor. Jules was saying something about the great security, which I was hoping for both our sakes was exaggerated. Great view, top of the line appliances, blah blah blah. It occurred to me that even though we were now in the building, it might be kind of hard to break away from the guide. He wasn't just going to give us free reign of the place after all.

Jules suddenly froze in his tracks. "You guys smell that?" he asked. Now that he mentioned, there was a faint whiff of something. . ._burning_?

_BAMF!_ The sound was sharp and distinctive and it scared me half to death. The earphones literally fell out Jules ears he jumped so high. "What the hell!"

Then came the fire alarms, loud, flashing klaxons all up and down the hallway.

"Oh my God!" yelled Sam. "Fire!"

"Hey," yelled Jules back, struggling to be heard over the sirens, "please, remain calm!"

"Come on baby," Sam was shouting, pulling on my arm. "Fire exit!"

Jules looked over the fire escape stairwell, nodding approval. "Go on," he said, "I'll be right down."

We didn't need any more prompting, and with Sam dragging me down the hallway, we were in the dull gray stairwell in a matter of seconds.

I whirled on Sam. "Sam have you lost your mind?" You set off those Indep-Indestr. . ._fireworks_! Didn't you!"

"It was just one," Sam snapped tersely. "Controlled flame, just some rubbish in one of the trash cans we passed. The alarms should be going off any moment now."

As if on cue, the blaring lights and sound came to an abrupt stop.

"Sam, that's called arson!"

"It's called a distraction, and it's not like anyone got hurt."

"It's _illegal_."

She rolled her eyes and started up the stairs. "You can thank me later Freddie. End of story, we're that much closer to getting the damn laptop back. Now here we are, third floor."

My heart was still pounding from the firecracker going off. Knowing Sam, I should have suspected she'd have some less than legal plan for the 'Indies'. Nothing I could do about it now of course.

The hallway had a few people milling about, confused by the sudden alarms. They didn't notice Sam and I at all, which we reinforced by acting just as confused as they were.

"Quick, which room?" she pressed.

"Um, 313."

"Here we are then." Sam reached up and rapped sharply on the door. We waited.

No response.

Sam set down her shopping bag and retrieved one of her hairclips. Moments later, the hairclip had been taken apart into two very distinct tools: a makeshift tension wrench and a pick. The former was an L-shaped rod of steel, the other a smaller rod with a thin, slightly hooked end. I'd seen her pick locks before with these tools, and it never ceased to amaze me.

She knelt down as inconspicuously as possible and inserted both tools into the door's keyhole. The hallway was clear by now but I was still worried. If anyone did happen to come around the corner, it would be hard to explain this scene.

Listening closely, I could hear the tinny scritch-scratch sound of her tools working inside the aperture. She swore suddenly and I glanced sharply down. "What?"

"Nothing, I just. . ." She took a deep breath. "This one's kinda tough, the pins are different than I'm used to. Needs a lot more-" she grunted- "_torque_! Dammit! Lost it again!"

I certainly had no idea what the hell she was talking about, so I just knelt down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. "You've got this," I said as reassuringly as possible.

She paused, turning her head so she could see me. "Thanks." It was so sincere it almost didn't even sound like her. Our eyes met and it was like I'd been caught in a vise. I couldn't look away.

There was a final _click_, which sort of jolted us both from our shared reverie. Sam's eyebrows shot up and she hesitantly reached up to turn the door.

We both let out a breath of relief when it opened.

We were in.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

And the plot thickens even further. . .

Thanks for making it through yet another chapter. As always, tell me what you think!

-C


	4. All the Cutesy Couples

****

The Rat and the Flea

* * *

**Sam**

_Chizz_, when had I ever gotten that out of practice? The lock would've taken me half the time in my prime, and I resolved right then and there to practice my ass off once we got back to Seattle.

If Freddie noticed the lapse in my lockpicking skills, he didn't let on. In fact, he seemed downright impressed.

We were in.

As apartments go, it was meticulous. Not as big as I would've thought, but the view overlooking the lake would be pretty good compensation.

"Stop looking out the window," whispered Freddie. "We need to find that laptop and get the heck out of here."

I was looking and I was seeing a lot of things. Immaculate couches, fresh tabletops. . .this place barely even looked lived-in. I turned to Freddie, worried. "Maybe the whole 'V. Leery' thing was just a coincidence. Maybe this isn't even the right apartment."

"Yeah, well I'm no Sherlock Holmes but the Milwaukee travel guide open to the _exact _restaurant where he screwed us over says this is the right place. C'mon let's go check the bedroom."

I sighed and followed him down the short hallway, where the first door on the right was a bedroom. The entire wall was practically a window looking out over Lake Michigan. It was a view even better than the main room's. And just like in there, it was perfectly arranged.

Still, no laptop.

Freddie sad a very naughty and un-Freddie-like word as he hurried to check the bathroom and closets. Like Vincent would really hide the thing in the shower. Fortunately, it didn't take Freddie long to reach the same conclusion as me.

"Where could he have taken it?" he asked mostly to himself, jaw clenched in frustration. "He can't _do _anything with it."

I shrugged. "Who knows? Personally, I say we just wait for him to get back. Then we beat the crap out of him, take the laptop, and maybe clog his toilet just for spite."

It almost scared me that Freddie's objection was to the first, rather than the last part of that statement. "Yeah, but who knows how long it'll take till he gets here." So much for cooler heads prevailing.

"I'm sure we could think of some way to pass the time," I said. Innocently, honest! Still, I knew what it sounded like the instant I said it. And, unbidden, I found myself imagining that very thing.

"Um. . ." Freddie's hand went to the back of his neck. "Like what?"

I was saved from a very awkward by the unmistakable sound of a key fiddling in a lock. All scandalous thoughts of me and Freddie evaporated, replaced by something like panic. Vincent had come back a lot sooner than either of us expected.

Fight or flight. My flight instinct, like always, gave way to fight. I could feel the cold hard grips of Thelma and Louise from where I'd stashed them in my belt. I began to slight the nunchucks out.

Freddie put a restraining hand on my arm, his face dead serious. Silently, he opened the bedroom closet and motioned me inside.

"I can take him," I whispered fiercely.

"More than one," he whispered right back, just as fiercely. Then without warning he pulled me in with him. Unprepared, I lurched forward and right into Freddie. I almost let out a yelp of surprise but his hand was right there covering my mouth and stifling the sound. Our faces were inches apart.

Freddie shut the closet door behind me just as Vincent and company closed the door behind them. His heart was hammering, I was pressed so close against him I could feel it. He'd had to reach behind me to close us in, and as a result I was trapped in the circle of his arm. His other hand, came slowly off my mouth once he was satisfied I wasn't going to be making any more unintentional sound.

My heart was hammering too, and it was only partly because we were this close to getting caught by Vincent and whoever he was with.

"Small closet," I said weakly. The newcomers were still in the new room, and their voices were too hushed for us to hear. At least one of them didn't sound happy.

I could tell from his voice that he was smiling. "Yeah, really small. Not claustrophobic, are you?"

"Little bit."

"Here." In the darkness he shifted, trying to give me a little bit more space. Now I was sort of nestled to his side, and could see through the slits in the shuttered closet door a bit better. Also, his hand was on my butt.

"You know, I hospitalized the last guy that tried to feel me up."

"Huh? I'm not- wait, is that your-"

"Sure is, Romeo."

The hand moved. "Sorry, he muttered."

"Like you didn't enjoy it."

I could almost hear him rolling his eyes. Far worse though, I could hear the voices growing nearer. They were coming into the bedroom. I heard a completely unnecessary hushing sound from Freddie. In this instance, I definitely knew the advantage of keeping my mouth shut.

Vincent was first to enter, followed by a pale, skinny stick of a man with bad skin and a sharply receding hairline. He wore an ill-fitting business suit and moved like a nervous version that guy from a Nightmare Before Christmas. He was creepy as all chizz, basically.

Then came the last guy. His suit was a bad fit too, but for a completely different reason. He was _huge_. Massive. At least six-five, and not a pound under four hundred. His head was completely shaven, but he had a trim goatee and mustache. His business suit was stretched over massive muscle, and the collar seemed almost arbitrary because the guy had almost no neck. He looked like he could snap a sycamore in half.

I imagined going at him with Thelma and Louise. I wouldn't stand a chance. He'd throw me all the way to the other side of the lake, and then use Freddie as a toothpick.

"What's in here?" asked the skinny, jumpy guy. "I sure hope you got money under the bed, for your sake Vincent."

"No, no I don't have the money yet," Vincent said. Wow, the guy sounded positively scared. Judging from the way the two guys in business suits were looking at him, I could see why.

"You don't have the money yet?" echoed Skinny Dude. "Vincent, Vincent Vincent. . .give me one good reason why I shouldn't let Flea loose on you right now." It took me a moment to realize that he was referring to Huge Dude. _Flea? Interesting name for a guy the size of a grizzly bear._

Vincent looked ready to wet himself. "I _will_ have it! I swear to God, I will! I got the laptop that I was tellin' you about, it's right in my satchel-"

"I don't care what you got in your man-purse, if it ain't twelve grand then you might as well jump outta the window right now and save us the trouble."

"It's not my fault!" insisted Vincent. "The security software on this thing is unreal. Every new algorithm I try gets rejected automatically. I can't get into the damn system, which means I can't get the content and sell it to my contacts at Dingo, which means you guys won't get your money."

"Not our problem," said Skinny Dude. "You got a plan to get past the security on the laptop?"

"Yeah! There's a place on the south side, I know a guy there who does some real high level hacking. I bet he could crack this."

Skinny dude was filing his fingernails. He wasn't nearly as nervous as his walk might suggest, I realized. This guy was deadly calm. I was beginning to wonder if he wasn't more dangerous than the big guy. "Listen, Vincent," he said. "You have until tomorrow night. I'll be flexible as to what time that is specifically, but I will say that if morning comes back around after that and I still don't have my money, Flea will break you. Starting with the feet, and working his way up. Don't let those big hands fool you, he can be very precise when he's fracturing bones and dislocating joints." He turned to the man mountain behind him. "Show him, Flea."

Wordlessly, the huge man stepped forward, reached down, and took Vincent's hand. Like he was about to ask him to dance or something. "No, please!" pleaded Vincent.

Silence. I was holding my breath. Then, SNAP! Flea dropped the hand, having done something awful to it. Vincent cried out in pain, his face white with agony. He staggered backward cradling the hand.

"Relax, relax," said the skinny guy soothingly. "That was just a preview. Get us our money on time and there'll be no more where that came from. Do whatever you have to do, Vincent. Just get it done."

Vincent was trembling, stooped over and leaning on the bed. He nodded jerkily, sucking in air through his teeth.

Skinny Dude nodded. "Whelp, guess we're done here then. Nice place, Vincent. Don't make us visit again."

"I w-won't."

He turned to leave, but then stopped mid-stride. "Oh, one more thing."

Vincent's head jerked up, his eyes wide as saucers. He probably thought Skinny Dude was gonna have Flea do his other hand. "P-please-"

"Oh, relax. We just need a pair of earmuffs. Flea's ears, they get sensitive y'know. Isn't that right big guy?"

Flea nodded solemnly. He hadn't said a word up until now and clearly wasn't about to start.

Vincent let out a breath of relief. "Look in the closet."

_Oh chizz! _I could feel Freddie stiffen behind me. _Chizzchizzchizz! _This was _not_ good, but we were trapped, only seconds away from looked on in horror as Skinny Dude strolled over to the closet. He started to open it.

"Not that closet," wheezed Vincent. "The front one."

"Oh." With a shrug, Skinny Dude let go of the handle and backed away. "We'll see ourselves out, thanks. Have a good one Vincent."

"Wait!" he said suddenly. "Give me a ride to the place I was telling you about and we can get this taken care of even sooner."

"Why don't you just drive?"

"You deflated my back tires!"

"Oh, right." Skinny Dude turned to Flea, then back to Vincent. "Well, come on then let's go already. And this guy better be as good as you claim."

"Oh, he is!"

They filed out with some other meaningless chatter, finally shutting the door behind them and leaving me and Freddie pressed all up in each others' personal space in a bedroom closet.

* * *

**Freddie**

"God, I thought I was gonna suffocate in there," exulted Sam once we got out.

"Yeah, your stupid nunchucks were poking into me the whole time," I muttered.

She glanced at me sharply. "Let's not talk about who was poking who with what, cuz you don't wanna go there Fredna." She glanced down ruefully at Thelma and Louise. "Shame I didn't even get to give these babies a taste of blood."

I snorted. "Umm, did you not see that huge sumo-lookin dude, Flea! We're lucky he didn't twist us like pretzels and shove us down the laundry chute!"

For once, Sam didn't disagree. "Yeah, let's hope we don't run into him again." She reached up behind her head and undid her hair, letting it fall back down over her shoulders. "What did you make of that anyway? Does he work for Dingo or not?"

I was already shaking my head. "I don't think so. Could be he's a freelancer."

"A freelance what?"

"Corporate thief, most likely. Steal one person's ideas and give them to someone else. For a fee. Clearly he was counting on a pretty high pay day from ours."

"Clearly he _needed_ a pretty high pay day, to get those two whackjobs off his backs. Who do you think they were? Mafia? Illuminati?"

I arched an eyebrow. "Um, probably nothing that serious. Loan sharks more like it."

"Loan sharks," she repeated. "Wow, this just gets crazier and crazier." She clapped her hands, pointing at me with all ten fingers. "Whoops, almost forgot!"

"Huh?" She had already disappeared into the bathroom by the time I finished the question. I heard the sound of running faucet water. Then running bath water. "Sam!" I yelled. "This is not the time to get freshened up!"

She reappeared a moment later with that angelic smile of hers. "Relax, I'm not about to hop in."

I pointed to the bathroom. "What's that all about then?"

She shrugged. "It's petty, I know. But the chizzstain _did_ drug me. A few hours' worth of water damage should teach him a lesson-"

"Doubtful."

"Well then partially flooding his apartment will make _me_ feel better. Now c'mon, let's go."

We headed out using the stairway exit and shuffled through the lobby before the receptionists could start asking some awkward questions. Sam strode forward without a care in the world while I was fretting over security cameras and blind spots. I wasn't even counting illegal acts anymore, I was just praying that we made it back to Seattle without getting (or lengthening, in Sam's case) our respective criminal records.

"There," pronounced Sam once we'd made it outside. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Hmmph," I managed.

She tugged on my arm. "C'mon, let's get some hot chocolate. My treat. Then we can figure out how we're gonna get that laptop back."

"Well, when you put it like that. . ." I managed a smile. "I could definitely go for some hot chocolate."

Walking together, we could have been just like any of the other couples giggling and laughing and flirting all around us. Something about the cold weather, I'd noticed, seemed to bring out the romance in the air. Suddenly, I was hit by a bout of. . .sadness. Which was weird, because I'd never really minded being single. Sure, a girlfriend was always a pleasant idea, but this unfamiliar pang of loneliness was something else altogether.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked as we approached the counter.

I jammed my hands deep in my coat pockets and turned to her, feeling uncharacteristically open. "You ever feel. . .lonely?"

Her nose crinkled. "Huh?"

"You know, like looking at all the cutesy little boyfriends and girlfriends and it seems like they're everywhere and. . ." I was rambling. _Stop rambling_, I told myself. "I dunno, kinda makes me wish I had that."

To my surprise, Sam neither laughed in my face nor hit me. In fact, she didn't do anything for a few seconds. Just stood there, like she wasn't sure what to say.

"Never mind," I cut in quickly. "It's stupid. Forget I said anything." The man in front of us moved out of line and Sam was still looking a little lost for words, so I ordered for us. Two hot chocolates, steaming and warm and. . .

"Delicious," Sam murmured as we sat down on another mall bench.

"Uh-huh." My tolerance for scalding beverages was, shall we say, very underdeveloped. I had a hard time just taking sips. "Yeah, 's really good."

She leaned in, propping her chin up with both hands. "Alright, so Vincent and the dynamic duo back there are on their way right now to take the laptop to a hacker. Vincent sounded pretty confident the guy could get past your security features. What do you think?"

I shrugged. "My programs are good, Sam. That's not even a boast, they just are. Your average hacker wouldn't get through it in a million years. Better than average? It'd take maybe about a week."

"Vincent said this guy could do it in a day."

"If so," I said, "then he's world class, the best of the best. But yeah, it's possible. Given the chance, we should get over there ASAP."

"You still have the tracking app on your phone?"

"Bringing it up now." I zoomed around the screen and adjusted it so that the overlay was perfect again, then honed in on the signal, running the Milwaukee County transit lines on a new layer. Two buses from where we were, and we would be at. . .I double-checked the registry. "Paulie's Pawn shop?"

"Gross, a porn shop?" Sam exclaimed.

"Nonono, _pawn_ shop."

She took a long swig of hot chocolate. "Whatever. So we go there, find this Paulie guy, and get our laptop back. Simple as chizz."

"Simple as chizz."

"You fall asleep on this bus ride and I'm drawin on you," she informed me. "You're not gonna like it."

"I'm sure I won't. I've seen your 'art'." I finished the text I was composing, a simple update to Carly containing details on what we'd learned so far. I left out the part about the loan sharks, since Carly was a bigger worrier than I was and the last thing I needed was my mom catching wind of what we were up to. I could barely remember the expansive lie I'd told her about our Milwaukee stay but it definitely didn't involve chasing corporate spies and seven-foot-tall gangsters around the city.

"I see what you mean," Sam mused, looking out over the central plaza.

"About what?" I followed her gaze to a couple across the walkway, sitting on the opposite bench. They were about our age, and they were cuddled up close, taking silly pictures of themselves with a digital camera. After the photo session, the girl put down the camera just long enough to share a kiss with her boyfriend. Then, a mischievous glint in his eye, he started mock tickling her, much to her delight. It was the kind of scene that usually annoyed me and gave Sam night chills, but the affection was so palpable. I felt that same creeping envy again.

Slam turned back slowly, looking at me in that way of hers where it feels like she's sizing you up. I wondered if she was picturing us together, like that other couple. I sure was. And worse, the idea was very appealing.

"What are you thinking?" she asked me, her eyes locked on mine.

_That I kind of want to be with you_. I was so close to saying it that I literally had to take gulp of my drink just to stop from blurting it out. I cracked a smile. "You'd laugh at me."

She leaned even closer, intently. "No, I don't think I would."

I don't know what exactly would have happened next if Carly hadn't texted me back. I ignored the first two rings and then realized it wasn't a text at all, she was calling. Probably freaking out, now that I thought about. And maybe I should have left Sam's attempted arson out of my little update.

I held up the phone, thumbing it to speakerphone. "It's for us."

* * *

**Sam**

It took the better part of ten minutes to fully placate Carly. She was fully leaning toward the 'forget about it and go home' option. A small part of me could even see her point. To some, Freddie and I might well have been in over our heads.

But giving up just wasn't an option. For either of us. Every time I thought back to Vincent laughing at me while I projectile-vomited from the drugs he'd slipped in my wine. . .it was like this dull roaring in my ears. I wanted blood, and that's only barely a metaphor. It's horrible, I know, but I was _glad_ he'd gotten his pinky broken by those two goons. And I fully intended on introducing a lot more pain into his life.

Freddie wasn't budging either, the rare instance where he and I came together on an issue opposite of Carly. It was his laptop, after all. He loved that friggin' thing.

So after seeing that there was no deterring us, Carly did the only sensible thing and gave up, though with 'strong reservations'. I felt a little bad about putting her in that situation, but she clearly didn't understand just had I- we both were.

Oh, and then there was this whole Freddie thing. We never managed to revisit our conversation from earlier, when I'd asked him what he was thinking. At least not right then. Yet, even as we hopped on the bus toward 'Paulie's Pawn Shop', I couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to be _with_ Freddie. Cuddling and hand-holding and tickling and moonlight kisses and all that junk. It was so easy conjure up the mental image, especially sitting next to him, the bus so crowded that his knee kept bumping into mine and his elbow kept nudging my hip. Each time, it was like a flare, a powerful tingle of awareness and attraction.

Would I be feeling the same if Carly were here? I wondered. I'd always considered her the prettier between us, the more popular with boys and all that. And until recently, it hadn't even bothered me. But as easy as it was to picture Freddie and I together, it was even easier to picture Freddie and Carly. They'd already dated, for chizzsakes! And Freddie had been professing his love for her ever since iCarly first started. I closed my eyes, clearing the sudden feeling anger at Carly from my mind. I wondered what Freddie would say if he could see warring emotions in my head. Would he laugh? Recoil in disgust? Or worse, pity me? Would he tell me that he'd been entertaining the same thoughts about me?

I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye, tapping away at his PearPhone.

I just didn't know.

"Here!" Freddie announced suddenly. I jolted awake, which is when I realized by extension that I'd fallen asleep. The bus rolled to a gentle stop and Freddie and I scurried off, eager to escape the crushing mass of commuters.

"Hope you had a good nap," he was saying as the bus pulled off. "There's the pawn shop, right across the street." He gestured to a row of dilapidated storefronts, a barbershop, a cell phone 'retailer', and Paulie's Pawn Shop. Even coated in layers of fresh winter snow, it looked sleazy.

I cracked a smile. My kind of place. Except. . ."It says 'closed'," I pointed out.

"Well, according to the tracker the laptop is right in there," he said. Then, smiling, "Think you're up for a little more breaking and entering?"

This lock was older, a cakewalk to pick. The door, unfortunately, had one of those chimes that rings whenever someone comes in. If there was anyone inside, they definitely knew we were here.

Freddie and I strolled inside to find the messiest, most disorganized excuse for a store I've ever seen. There were watches, earrings, lamps, every worthless piece of junk imaginable littered in rusted metal cabinets and tabletops. None of the interior lights were on, casting the array in an eerie blue light. Every step we made creaked on the old wooden floorboards.

"Let's get what we came for and get out," whispered Freddie.

"Yeah," agreed. "Speaking of which, where-"

"YAAAAAGH!" came a bloodcurdling yell from behind us. I whirled around to see a large, round man with an unkempt beard and a Star Wars baseball hat spring up from what I realized was a stairwell. He had a big aluminum baseball bat and his face read bloody murder.

Rearing back, he swung wildly at Freddie, who dodged back just in time. Newtonian physics being what they were, he kept going, backwards into a shelf of model action figures. The fat guy barely even paused before trying to take my head off with the bat. It was a good swing too. Hate to think what would have happened if it had connected.

It didn't, of course. I dropped into a low crouch, letting the Louisville Slugger sail harmlessly over my head. I lashed out with my foot, going for the groin but hitting blubber instead. The tactical advantage of a pot belly, I guess. All I'd done was piss the guy off even more.

A plastic toy guitar came flying out of nowhere, hitting our attacker on the back of the neck. Freddie, I realized. He was up and throwing everything including the kitchen sink at him. Me, I wasn't about to waste the opportunity.

Thelma and Louise came out beautifully, like a divine extension of pure whoopass. I did a full twirl, building up all kinds of kinetic force before unleashing the nunchuck's far stick on the big guy's knee. Not much the in way of cushion there, and the bone-jarring impact rang out with a satisfying crack.

He went down, rolling on the floor and frantically rubbing at his abused knee. "Owowowwwww." It was kind of pathetic, really.

Cautiously, Freddie came over to stand by me. He was breathing heavily and his hair was a disheveled mess. "What'd you do to him?"

I held up the nunchucks.

"Great, breaking and entering and assault." Despite his words, Freddie was still smiling.

"That frickin' hurt?" whined our attacker. His hat had fallen off, revealing a rapidly-balding head and a greasy ponytail in the back. He looked like the comic book guy from The Simpsons and I was disappointing that Thelma and Louise's first taste of action had been wasted on this clown.

"Who are you?" he wanted to know, gingerly rising to his feet. Wisely, he'd left the baseball bat on the ground."

"Just call us Sam and Freddy," I said, "which we'd have been happy to tell you without you trying to hit a home run on our craniums."

"Hey, this is my property you little twerps. You're the ones who broke in."

"You're the one who carries out highly illegal hacking and data mining tasks for a known corporate spy," Freddie countered. I didn't know what the heck that meant, but it sure sounded good. And the white fear that suddenly flooded his face let me know that now we had him by the short 'n curlies.

I brandished the nunchucks menacingly. "Paulie, right?"

"Y-yeah, that's me."

"And you have an associate who was here probably about an hour ago."

He inhaled sharply but didn't say anything. I let one of the nunchuck sticks drop so that it dangled in a slow, lazy pendulum. "Sure you don't wanna rethink that answer?"

A gulp. "O-okay fine. There's a guy I do work for sometimes. Vincent. Don't know a last name, don't even know if that's his real name. He and these two other goons brought a laptop by just recently. Really beefed up security on this thing, like friggin' Fort Knox. Plus, double my usual rate if I could crack it by tomorrow morning. So I'm like, a good challenge and a bonus? Count me in."

"Did you get past the security software?" Freddie wanted to know.

"Well not yet but I'm close. I mean, what the hell do you kids care anyway?"

"It's my laptop," Freddie told him coldly. "And we're taking it back."

Paulie's mouth started to tremble. "What? No way, no freakin' way. If they come back tomorrow and I don't have the laptop I am dead. Those goons, they did _not _look like they were messin' around."

"Would it help if you told them you were knocked unconscious?" I asked.

"Well yeah, but who's gonna believe-."

"Alright then." I hit him with the nunchucks, a glancing blow to the left side of his face that impacted just hard enough to leave a little bruise. "Now they'll believe you."

Too dumbfounded to even complain, Paulie led us to a back room where lo and behold, the laptop was wired to a bunch of other gizmos and doohickeys. Freddie handled most of this part, since the technical aspects of removing the machine safely went way over my head. My job was to simply stand there, nunchucks brandished, and scare the living chizz out of Paulie.

"So you wrote all that encryption software?" Paulie asked as Freddie packed the laptop away.

"Yeah, so?"

"Wow. . .you're good kid. Haven't seen programming like that in a while."

Unsure of how to take the surprise compliment, Freddie just shrugged. "Um, thanks."

Paulie looked back at the ground. "Sorry about to whale on you guys with a baseball bat. I kinda lost it I guess. thought you were some of those punks that case the stores around here and break in for cash."

"Well, we did break in, no harm no foul-"

"Come on Freddie." I grabbed his arm, pulling him with me toward the exit before those two became pinky pals for life or something. We had what we'd come for, and as far as I was concerned we just needed to get back and wait for the storm to pass so we could hop on the next flight home.

* * *

**Freddie**

"Can you believe it?" I could barely contain my excitement as we trudged out of the pawn shop. "We got it back. I feel like. . .freakin' Sherlock Holmes. Or the Hardy Boys!"

"The Hardy Boys?" Sam laughed. "Which one am I?"

"Neither, you're Nancy Drew," I informed her.

"Uh huh. . ."

I stopped in my tracks, turning to look directly at her. "Hey, we should celebrate."

Her brow furrowed. "Celebrate. . .how?"

"I don't know, go out for the night or something." An idea hit me. I saw this karaoke on the way to LeFranc, and it's not far from the hotel either."

She was debating it. "You're serious."

We made it into the bus shelter, where I could now take my hands out of my pockets without freezing them off. "Live music and all that. Plus, I mean, we could at least get our money's worth out of the dressy outfits we brought."

"Wow, you're really feeling good about yourself huh?"

"Yes, yes I am. And you should be too."

She smirked. "It was my idea after all. . ."

I clapped her on the shoulder. "I say we go back, get some rest, then hit the town tonight. Downtown Milwaukee. Whaddya say?"

She was relenting, getting used to the idea. "On one condition," she finally said.

"Shoot."

"I want to see you sing. I deserve the amusement, I think."

I recoiled in mock horror. "Trust me, you do not want me to honor that request."

"Oh, I think I do Freddie."

Had she actually called me Freddie? Not Fredna, Fredstina, or Fredtard? I was tempted to pinch myself. "Fine. You'll get to hear me sing, I promise."

She looped an arm through mine, and it felt so natural that I didn't even register it at first. We huddled close, waiting for what was hopefully the last Milwaukee bus we'd have to take. I was getting kind of sick of them to be honest. But more so, I was relieved. We'd gotten the laptop back safe and sound, and we wouldn't be hearing any more from Vincent or those two goons we'd seen in his apartment.

Boy, were we wrong.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Thanks for making it through yet another chapter and please, tell me what you think. This was my favorite chapter to date since I got to throw a little action in the mix. Fight scenes and the like are so fun to map out. The mushy stuff's a little more challenging, especially since I'm writing both characters a little bit older than they are in the show. More of both to come, especially Sam whaling on people with high density ceramic nunchucks!

Anywho, hope you enjoyed and by all means- accolades, criticisms, and everything in between are welcome.

More to come soon!

-C


	5. Cougars, Karaoke, and Kisses

Brew City Blues Chapter 5

**Sam**

Getting back to the hotel took longer than either of us had expected, which kinda sucked given the freezing wait at the bus stop. Still, the casual intimacy of just cozying up with Freddie under the shelter wasn't unpleasant. Far from it.

I had the entire ride back to think about exactly what I was going to do about this Freddie situation. We had another night left in Milwaukee before we were on our way back to Seattle. And when we got back, would things go back to normal? Did I want them to? And what about Freddie? What guy on earth would seriously consider dating the girl who'd tormented him for years. Especially when that girl had to compete with Carly Shay for his affections.

"You okay?" Freddie asked as we entered the hotel lobby. I suddenly felt pathetic. Freddie didn't have a care in the world right now, and here I was letting all these mixed up crazy feelings ruin my mood for no reason. I rolled my eyes. "I'm just dandy Fredna."

He laughed. "Now there's the Sam I know and love. C'mon, let's hurry up and get dressed so we can get there early.

_I know and love_. . .I knew it was just a figure of speech but that didn't stop me from replaying that fun little soundbite in my head a few times. Or my heart from doing this weird flippy thing in my chest. _Great_, I scolded myself in the elevator. _What next, you gonna ask for his friggin' hand in marriage?_

No, this had already gotten too far out of hand. Me mooning over Freddie. . .how ridiculous was that anyway? I resolved right then and there to just ignore all the little voices in my head intent on playing matchmaker. Tonight, we would just have a good time. And then we'd go back to Seattle and everything would. . .would be just like it was.

* * *

**Freddie**

While Sam was in the bathroom getting ready, I took the opportunity to give Carly a call and update her on what had happened. She'd definitely called me several times, Sam too I'd bet, but we'd just been too occupied to contact her back.

She picked up immediately, and I could barely get a 'hey Carly' out before she shrieked "Fred! Ohmigod I've been trying to get in touch with you and Sam for ages!"

I winced. "Sorry about that. We're fine though, don't worry. Better than fine, actually."

She paused. "Wait, don't tell me you actually got it back."

"We actually got it back."

"No way! How?"

So I told her the whole story, recapping as succinctly as I could. Sam and I trapped in the closet, then tracking down Paulie and asking him nicely (I left out the nunchucks) to give us the laptop back. Simple as that.

"Wow, I can't believe it was that easy."

"Me neither," I said, "but I'm not complaining."

"Uh-huh. Hey, where' Sam?"

"Shower, she's getting ready for tonight?"

There was puzzlement in her voice. "Tonight? What's tonight?"

I thought about how to put it. "Well, we decided that to celebrate our good fortune, we'd hit the town tonight. Find a good jazz club or something."

"Really? You and Sam?"

"Yeah," I said defensively. "What about it?"

"Nothing. It's just that it seems like you guys have been getting along awfully well all of a sudden." She stopped abruptly, as if something had just occurred to her. "Wait! You guys aren't _doing it_ are you?"

"What? How could you even-no way!" I yelped.

"Dude, same room same bed and you two willingly going out together on a date-"

"It's not a date."

"Sure, Romeo. I'm just sayin', if you guys get it on I don't wanna be finding out all after the fact like I did with your first kiss."

I buried my face in my hand. "That was the cue, I think. That was the cue for me to end this conversation. You need to get some rest Carly I think sleep deprivation's messing with your head."

"Uh-huh." She laughed. "Seriously though, good job you guys. I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks mom."

Another laugh. "Oooh, you don't wanna go there mama's boy. Give Sam my love though, okay."

"Okay."

"Seeya soon!"

"Yep, you too." I hung up, blushing furiously and thanking my lucky stars Sam hadn't been privy to that part of the conversation. Carly could be a real card sometimes.

I looked in the mirror. Black button-down, nice jeans, and black shoes. . .I could definitely live with that. My hair was a bit messier than usual, but I kinda liked the more carefree style. It definitely fit the last few days.

Then the bathroom door opened.

I paled in comparison to Sam. Just. .not even close. I wasn't ready at all for seeing her when she emerged, hair done, makeup perfect, everything. She wore a purple, strapless dress that stopped somewhere distractingly north of mid-thigh. Underneath, black leggings under calf-length leather boots. Her eyes stood out even more from underneath lashes that seemed impossibly long. She was, in short, beautiful.

"What do you think?" she asked. Her lips were curled up at the corners, and I would have given my eyeteeth to know what _she_ was thinking right then.

I did the only thing I could think to, a thumbs up. She laughed. "Come on Freddie, let's find this club."

The outing was surreal. We went to dinner first, a casual local restaurant that had a bunch of awesome movie posters and memorabilia on the walls and ceiling. It was hard to imagine that so many famous people had been to Milwaukee. Sam even joked that we should offer to let the manager take a picture with us, famous web icons that we were.

Our conversation was easy and fluid, flirtatious without stepping too far over that invisible line of no return. I didn't bother to hide my frank appreciation. And I felt like when she looked at me she could see every one of my thoughts. I felt like I could see every one of hers too, and I even imagined that maybe she was just as in over head as I was. The past two days seemed like they'd lasted two weeks. All the frantic rushing around Milwaukee, the desperation, the anger. . .such a potent combination. Something very important had changed. Heck, several times over the course of dinner I was severely tempted to just throw everything out on the table. I imagined how _that_ convo would go:

**FREDDIE**: Sam, what would you say if I told you that. . .

**SAMANTHA**: Yes?

**FREDDIE**: Well, it's just that for a while. . .I don't know, I've just been wondering about what it would be like to be with you.

**SAMANTHA: **Be with me how?

**FREDDIE**: Well. . .um. . .a relationship.

**SAMANTHA**: Wait, you want to be in a relationship with me?

**FREDDIE:** I guess I do

**SAMANTHA:** Well, you know what I have to do now, right?

**FREDDIE:** *Gulp* Umm, you should do what feels-

**SAMANTHA**: Mmmmmmmwhhh *kissing*

**FREDDIE**: Mmmmmmwwwhh *kissing*

"Are you daydreaming?" Sam cut in. I realized that my mind had definitely wandered off while she was talking. "Rude." Luckily, she was smiling as she said it.

"My bad," I chuckled. "I'm pretty much done anyway. Any thoughts about where you want to go next?"

She nodded, still chewing down the rest of her chicken platter. "I saw this place next door, Zarko's."

"Zarko's." I repeated.

"Karaoke and live music, Kinda seedy looking but. . ." she grinned.

I nodded. Zarko's it was then.

* * *

**Sam**

Zarko's it was then. And this place, lemme tell you, did not disappoint. Dim lighting, hazy air, loud music. . .I was thinking: jackpot.

It hadn't even occurred to us that we might get carded, but sure enough at the door there was a big bouncer in a little black tee who took extra notice of us as we walked in. When Freddie passed he tapped him on the shoulder, beckoning both of us to the side.

He sized us up. "Not from around here, are you?"

We exchanged glanced. "Umm. . ." I began.

"Thought so. Don't worry I'm not tryna ruin your night. Have a good time, a'ight. But know that if see your underage asses sippin anything other than ice cold water you'll be out just like that." He snapped fingers the size of sausages to make his point.

I laughed nervously. "Trust me, no more alcohol for me for a while."

He shrugged. "Go on then, have some fun."

Sounded like a plan to me. I glanced up at Freddie as we maneuvered our way through the club's patrons, finally setting on a high table for two to call our own. The seating occupied a narrow strip of floor space that arced in a half-circle around the club's interior. All the way across from the entrance was a small stage, complete with a DJ booth and disc man. Everything in between was the dance floor, which was starting to fill up already. Most of the others were probably a good ten years my senior. Lawyers, accountants, secretaries. . .But in here we were all the same. Ready to kick back, relax and have a good time.

I looked at the middle-aged woman currently doing her best rendition of Beyonce's 'Single Ladies'. She wasn't that talented, but no one, including myself, seemed to care. Maybe this karaoke thing wouldn't be too bad after-

I froze at a figure that walked by outside the club. Skinny Dude himself. Or was it? I peered closer but the figure was lost in the crowd outside. The gait and feature had struck me as familiar in the worst possible way, but then what were the odds he would be here or even know where we were? In the end, I chalked it up to paranoia.

Freddie leaned in, his eyes questioning. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. . ." I shook my head dismissively. "Hey, let's go sing."

He took a deep breath. "This should be interesting.

And it definitely was. Sorry if you were hoping to hear all about our performances, trust me they weren't even close to the most interesting parts of that night. Suffice to say I went first and managed not to suck at my version of Pink's 'Raise Your Glass'. I even got a really decent ovation, though I suspected it had more to do with my audience taking the song's advice than any talent on my part. It was fun though. And seeing Freddie dance. . .well, even that was a surprise. Don't let the random dancing fool you, he actually has rhythm.

When I finished, his clapping was the loudest and even though it was a just a silly karaoke song I wanted to give him a huge hug just for that.

"My loyal fan," I laughed when I got off the stage.

"I told you this would be fun."

"Yes, you did."

"It's my turn now."

I suggested a song called 'F*** You'. "Dedicate it to our friend Vincent," I called after him as he took his turn on the stage.

"I just might," he called back. Would've been funny too, but nah. He went with Train's 'Hey Soul Sister' and did a pretty decent job. I caught a group of women at one of the nearby tables giving him speculative looks and had to resist the urge to yell 'He's 17, pervs!'. Couldn't blame 'em though, Freddie Benson looked really good up there, and they way he smiled as he sang was more than enough to set your average girl's temperature rising.

His applause was even louder than mine, a fact that I attributed to the unnaturally high 'cougar' population in this particular joint. Not that he seemed to notice. The first thing he did when he came back to our table was let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Nervous much?" I joked.

He gave a short laugh. "Of course. How'd I do?"

"How do you _think_ you did?"

He looked at me blankly.

"You were great up there. Really. Like, I might have to spend the rest of the night protecting you from the Middle Age Brigade in here."

"The Middle Aged-" He looked around. "Hey, they're not that old."

"Oh? Thinking about nabbing a thirty-five year old tonight? Be her little boy-toy?"

He burst out laughing at that one. "I'll take a pass this time."

I took a sip of my water. The karaoke portion of the night was winding to a close, which left a rapidly-filling dance floor. I really wanted to dance.

Following my eyes, Freddie pushed back from the table. "Come on," he said.

"Come on?"

He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to the forearm. "Let's dance."

* * *

**Freddie**

I don't know what song it was, or who it was by. I know that it seemed perfect though for two of us. The bass was strong, but smooth. The kind of gentle rhythm you find yourself swaying to without realizing it. The lights went even dimmer, red and purple hues sporadically flashing across the dance floor.

She ran her hands through her hair as she danced, her hips moving back and forth to the beat. She was smiling and looking at me through those long lashes again. Next to her, I was the clumsiest monkey in the zoo. I couldn't tear my eyes away.

She regarded me for a moment just like that, then surprised me by sidling up next to me. She turned all the way around and leaned back into me, bringing me into her movement, her rhythm. The back of her head rested right next to my chin, and she took my hands in hers to bring them around the front of her body. It was a startlingly intimate gesture but the combination of music and lights, the smell of her perfume and the feel of her against me made it the most natural thing in the world.

We danced, the friction positively electric between us. This wild, sensual Sam was new to me. A side I'd never seen before. One way or another, I knew that after tonight, I'd never be able to look at her the same way.

* * *

**Sam**

So generally speaking, I don't dance. Not like that anyway. Still, there was something exciting and. . . forbidden about it. I could feel his solid frame behind me, responding to the music and my movement. The songs I recognized I sang along with, even though I couldn't hear my own voice over the music. I soon lost track of time. Song after song we danced, our bodies merged as one.

But then he did something peculiar. He took my right hand in his left and turned me around to face him. His hand dropped down to my hip, holding me in. Not that I was going anywhere.

I forced a smirk, even though my heart was about to hammer out of my chest. His grasp was light, but it was like an electric jolt along my back where his fingers touched me. "Tired already?" I asked.

"Not in the slightest." His forehead came down just enough to bump against mine. "You're a good dancer."

"Thank you." It was just small talk. The real conversation was going on in our eyes. His were practically smoldering.

"Sam-"

"Kiss me," I said.

His mouth was on mine almost before I could finish the sentence. Dancing had been nothing. Our first kiss, years ago, was a pale imitation. Of their own accord, my arms snaked around the back of his neck, drawing him in deeper. My thoughts were a jumble of desire and panic and every other emotion imaginable.

I pulled back. "What are we doing?" I whispered. Nowhere near loud enough for him to hear me, yet I could tell he knew exactly what I was saying.

He ran a thumb gently over the contour of my cheekbone. "I don't know," he said. Then, "I don't care."

I didn't either. This kiss was even more intense than its predecessor. Scorching hot. My entire body was on fire. I wanted to do things to him that, let's face it, I had no business even thinking about doing. We pulled back with ragged breaths. Amazingly, none of the dancing and gyrating couples around us seemed to have noticed our flagrant PDA. Still, I suddenly wanted to be out of there, someplace more private.

"Let's get out of here," Freddie suggested.

"Let's."

We made it out of Zarko's in record time, hand in hand. The bouncer we'd met on the way in took one look at us and rolled his eyes, like it was a scene he'd witnessed a million times before.

This new awareness of each other was surreal. My lips still tingled from our kiss, and if the way he kept slowing down to turn and look at me was indication, he'd been similarly affected. I wondered what would happen when we got back to the room. What _wouldn't_ happen? It was hard to imagine myself holding back anything from him, feeling like I did right then.

I glanced nervously at him out of the corner of my eye. Something about this Milwaukee air, I thought. Things moving so fast, me and Freddie of all things. And Lord knew once we got in the same room. . .

* * *

**Freddie**

_Once we got back to the room. . ._

I froze in my tracks when we reached the hotel doors. "We can't go up there," I said in a voice I barely even recognized.

Sam looked shocked. Then confused. Then hurt. But then understanding came to her eyes. "That's um, that's probably a good idea."

"Sam, you have no idea how much I want to. . .well, it doesn't really matter I guess. Cuz my point is, I want to do this right."

"This?" she asked. It was hard to read her emotions.

Wow, I was struggling for words. "This. Us. You and me, Sam." It suddenly occurred to me that maybe I was making a hugely unwarranted assumption about what had just happened. What if she wasn't even thinking about me like that? What if she was one of those girls who just kissed guys for the sake of kissing them. Recreationally. The thought horrified me.

She didn't seem to know quite what to say either. "Freddie, what did that mean to you?"

I didn't have to ask what she was referring to. And I didn't have to think about the answer. "It meant a lot. I really enjoyed it."

She beamed at me, a smile that seemed to spread over her entire face. "Enough to. . .say. . .ask me out?"

I put a hand on the back of my neck. "Well, I don't want to get punched like the last guy who did that."

"Oh, you just might," she said. "But I think you should risk it."

I looked at her for a moment._ Oh, the hell with it._ "Go out with me then. On a real date."

She punched me, a soft, feathered blow that glanced lightly off my shoulders. Then she reached up and pulled me down for a short, sweet kiss. "I'd love to."

"Owww," I moaned in mock pain.

Sam laughed. "Oh, quit whining. You're such a girl."

"What's that make you?"

She winced. "Good point." Jamming her hands in her pockets, she looked up at the towering hotel building. "So then. Since we're going to this right instead of going up there for a little horizontal tango. . . What would you suggest for the rest of the night?"

"Pictures," I thought aloud.

"Pictures?"

"Yeah. There's a lot of cool spots in this city we could get killer pics from. My phone could even get some decent footage for iCarly if we wanted. 'Sam and Freddie's Midwest Adventure'."

"How grand," she said dryly. "Did you bring your camera?"

"I did. It's up in the room. I could go get it right now actually. Be back in like five minutes, easy."

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed. "I'll be in the lobby though, it's freezing out here."

It was, but somehow I hadn't even noticed. I gave a quick mock salute and took off toward the elevators. I was so excited. I literally wanted to run right up to the concierge and scream 'she likes me!' or some such silly thing. Me and Sam. . .what would Carly say? Especially given how close she came to being right on the phone.

I laughed to myself as I fiddled with the lock on the door. Horizontal tango. . .If she had any idea how tempted I'd been to-

The door swung open and I realized in one awful moment that Sam and I had uninvited guests. Vincent was in the corner, skulking. Flea was standing still as a statue in the other corner. Skinny Dude was seated in the desk chair facing the door.

"This him?" asked Skinny Dude.

Vincent, who was glowering at me, nodded. "That's him."

Skinny Dude turned back to me. "Freddie Benson. I gotta say, it's my pleasure, man. He steepled his fingers together, and despite his words he wasn't smiling. "I've just heard so much about you."


End file.
